


Cockles/Cockistoch drablets

by cockles_take_the_wheel



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cockles_take_the_wheel/pseuds/cockles_take_the_wheel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short anon ask box fics written on tumblr for fellow cocklers (cockistoch is Jensen/Misha/Vicki/Danneel)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hands

Jensen is envious of Misha's hands. He's always been self conscious of his own. He thinks they are too small, and his fingers too thick, and his knuckles too gnarled. And sometimes, when he looks at Misha's hands he feels something more than envy. Sometimes it feels like longing.


	2. Approval

Misha is an intelligent, confident, proud man. He happily pushes societal norms, and maintains a general 'fuck all' mentality to anyone who tries to bring him down. But the first time he meets Jensen, he feels anxious and confrontational for no reason. It's the first time since he was a teenager that he feels like he has something to prove. Because the sudden and overwhelming desire to be accepted and liked springs from a previously unexplored part of himself. He craves Jensen's approval.


	3. Not the First

Jensen is not the first man Misha has ever slept with, but he will be the last.


	4. Labels

Misha doesn't identify as bisexual. Or gay, or straight, or anything. It's not that he actively seeks to defy labels and makes a conscious effort to bring down the patriarchy. But more so because he doesn't really think about it. He never stops to consider what it is that sets him apart. He just is who he is and loves who he loves and does what he does. He's Misha. And that's the only label he's ever needed.


	5. First Move

Jensen is the one who makes the first move. There's a lot of alcohol involved when he finally corners Misha in a dark hallway. Misha doesn't say anything, just inhales sharply and the action snaps Jensen's eyes to his lips. The kiss is sloppy and honestly, not all that good. They both taste sickly sweet, and Jensen can smell cigarette smoke on his jacket. But it doesn't need to be idyllic to be perfect because it's real.

(& cont'd)

They don’t kiss again that night.

Jensen pulls back, his heated skin mists where the cool air comes rushing in to fill the void that’s formed between their bodies. He feels light headed as the stumbles down the hall and back into the back yard. He spends the rest of the night licking his lips and drinking. 

They don’t talk about it. The weekend stretches into days, and soon they’re back at work, where an awkward tension has taken root, a mockery of the friendship it took months to forge. 

They both think of it. The more they stay silent, the more the avoid it, avoid eye contact off set, avoid talking, avoid being what they were, the more it eats at them. 

Through the alcohol-haze, and the mounting unease, it becomes more than it was. The kiss. And each time they remember it, each time they pass each other and cast sideways glances across the room, they transform it from an unsatisfying, drunk slur of tongue and lips into an expression of fulfillment. 

They romanticize it. Until the point where Misha can’t stand it anymore. He presses into Jensen, sandwiched between two cars in a parking lot. Under the light of a streetlamp, he kisses him. 

And Jensen is so caught off guard, he twists as Misha says his name, just before they kiss. His back against the cool metal of the car door. He struggles to keep his head upright as Misha pushes into him.

The kiss is better, but not great. But this time, without the alcohol to blur the image of it, they both recognize it for what it is. A mediocre kiss. 

Misha drives Jensen home after dinner. 

But it isn’t until Jensen has his hand on the door that he realizes he doesn’t want to go yet. He doesn’t want to sit alone in a dark apartment. He doesn’t want to spend another two weeks not talking about it.

He turns, he means to say something, to ask Misha want the fuck they’re doing, or ask him if he plans on kissing him again. But the words are lost, they die in his throat. Because Misha’s looking at him, eyes hooded and lips parted and Jensen forgets that the first two kisses were bad. 

He leans across the center console, and Misha meets him half way, in some unspoken agreement that this is going to happen. And that thing, that silent, almost-tangible need that sprung into existence that first time blooms. 

It transforms this kiss into what they other two weren’t. Because there’s something about this kiss, Misha’s hand on the back of Jensen’s neck, and Jensen fisting his hand in Misha’s jacket, that’s perfect. The rhythm of it, the push and take, lips and breath, ache and greed, it defines this. 

They are unhurried. They kiss until they break apart to gasp for air, and immediately fall back into it. There is no burning desire to go farther, no aching need or desperate want that spurns them into taking more. 

And sure, Jensen’s collar has been pulled to the side, and Misha’s hair stands at all angles, and they’re both sporting impressive wood. But they don’t need any more than this. The newness of it, the thrill of learning how the other moves and tastes and kisses, how he sounds when he breathes through his nose, and the soft satisfied noises he makes, throaty and guttural. 

They kiss until their lips are swollen and their jaws ache. Palms on cheeks and fingers running through hair. Nose to nose, eyes shut, they don’t have to pretend or romanticize it after tonight. Because this time, it is idyllic.


	6. Class Clown

Jensen takes great pride in being able to make Misha laugh. He likes that Misha can't control himself onset when he raises one eyebrow suggestively. He likes that Misha thinks he's funnier than Jared. And it's something he's never experienced before. He's never had the urge to be the class clown, not when he's had a lifetime of practice being a quiet, stoic type. But after a few months being around Misha, he understands the appeal if making an ass out of himself for the sake of a laugh.


	7. Blankets

Jensen sleeps like a fucking burrito, wrapped up in his sheets like a swaddled babe. And it's like an impenetrable cocoon of blankets and fabric that shield his limbs from Misha. And Misha hates it. He hates not being about to reach out and touch warm skin in the middle if the night.

(& cont'd)

Eventually, they come to a sort of truce, an agreement that’s never verbalized or ratified. But Misha finds this compromise acceptable so he let’s it be.

For as wrapped up as Jensen is when he slips, his feet are never covered. Even if it’s just the tips of his toes, they peek out from under the sheets, naked, like a semi conductor heat sink that diffuses the stifling heat from under his covers into the surrounding air.

And through some mysterious force, Misha finds his own feet drawn to the warmth. He is naturally warm blooded, having grown up in the Northeast, so he doesn’t get cold at night with his single top sheet. But his feet inch diagonally over across the great divide, until he can his toes curl around Jensen’s.

At first in happens by accident, in his sleep. He doesn’t mean to, or remember doing it. But at some point, he’s begun doing it as they fall asleep. And because Misha is so warm all the time, he doesn’t have the urge to tear into Jensen’s fort and wrap himself around him. He’s satisfied, happy, with their ritual of holding feet as they drift off.


	8. Poetry

Misha writes Jensen poems. At first, they were more like limericks, dirty haikus that were designed to elicit cheap laughs. But after a while the tone of them shifts. They become more lyrically, meaningful, beautiful. Until one day, Jensen realizes that he has literally hundreds of love poems from Misha. And without really meaning to, or understanding the why and how of it, he realizes that he's fallen in love with one of his best friends.


	9. Selfish

Misha can be selfish when Jensen tops. He's usually too impatient to let his orgasm come from penetration alone. Instead, he jerk himself off while Jensen fucks him. So he almost always comes first. But sometimes Jensen holds him down, arms behind his back or hands above his head while Jensen fucks him slowly, languidly. And Misha writhes and begs for more, but Jensen ignores him and rolls his hips and bucks until he comes first. Only then does he finish Misha off with a few strong strokes.


	10. He's never done this

Jensen doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He's never fucked a guy before. But Misha is patient with him. He lays on his back and wordlessly, directs Jensen cock with his hands. He smiles, gives a reassuring nod as instincts take over and Jensen begins to arch his back and rock his hips, the tip of his cock slowly inching in. And just like that, it's easy. He knows how to do this. He knows how to fuck. It's all instinct as he thrusts and grunts and pounds Misha into the bed.


	11. Cinnamon

Jensen has always loved this time of year: when the air turns cool and crisp and his breath puffs white when he sighs. It reminds him of being a kid. Of holidays and snow and family trips. Of the exhilaration of gifts and the magic of Christmas. It reminds him of the oranges and reds of dying leaves and decorative gourds.

It reminds him of turkey dinners and mashed potatoes with gravy. It reminds him of being young and the anticipation of winter break. It reminds him of apple pie, cinnamon and pumpkin, tart apples and sweet vanilla ice cream.

But the past few years it’s been more than that. His love of the holidays have gotten jumbled, tangled and twisted up with his feelings for a certain costar that always smells vaguely of cinnamon.

Jensen isn’t even sure where the smell comes from, it’s just always there. First thing in the morning, on the road, when they’re shooting, under caked-on layers of makeup and fake blood, at the end of a 14 hour day… there is always a lingering scent of cinnamon. Almost like it emanates from Misha’s skin rather than from soap or cologne.

So now, when Jensen thinks about the wonder of first snow, the elation of vacations, and the distinct glee that he feels when he hangs strings of lights and garland, he can’t seem to separate Misha from any of it.

It’s gotten to the point where he’s not even sure which over-the-top, ridiculous, child-like joy came first. Misha or the holidays. Either way, the result is the same.

It’s November 1st, and Jensen is standing in the middle of the produce section. The sharp bite of cinnamon engulfs him, and he can’t help but smile.


	12. Prove It

Jensen is drunk and horny as fuck. He needs to fuck someone. He needs the slap of skin on skin, the warm, wet heat of someone wrapped around his cock. He needs lips and teeth and rocking hips. He needs grunting and panting and cursing. He needs it. And Misha is a goddamn tease. He flirts and quirks an eyebrow suggestively when Jensen casually mentions he would fuck him into the ground. And fuck-him is that little shit attractive when he licks his lips and whispers "Prove it." So he does.


	13. Accident

It was an accident, falling in love. It happened somewhere in between hating Jensen's stuck-up, self-entitled male-model attitude and coming to the upsetting conclusion that he'd been completely wrong. Wrong about every look, every conversation, every spike of annoyance or anger. Because while he thought he'd been righteously and vehemently judging just another A-list asshole, he was - in fact - falling in love, and fighting desperately not to. But by the time he figured it out, it was too late.


	14. The Link

When Misha see the link, he realized maybe there was a chance that he wasn't alone in his feelings. All the flirtations, pranks, and jokes... Misha just assumed it was one-sided. But it wasn't until he saw it in pictures and secondhand accounts that he realized, maybe, Jensen felt the same way. So he copied the link to send to Vicki so he could get her opinion on it, since she's better at reading people than he is.


	15. The Link - Alt

It was an accident. He saw it on his messages and copied it because he wanted to look at it later. But deleting it felt like an admission of guilt, so he just left it there and pretended it didn’t bother him. But he secretly hopes that no one says anything to Jensen about it, because he is embarrassed. So he makes a promise to himself to be more careful when he’s in front of cameras because he’s worried Jensen will get wind of the ‘proof’ and figure out that he’s completely in love with him.


	16. Rain and Candy

It was raining the first time Jensen kissed Misha. His hair was matted, his shirt was soaking and they were laughing about something. Misha had his head thrown back, his lips pulled right over his teeth, and there was rain on his face. Small, running drops of water that made it look like he was crying. Jensen couldn't help himself. He leaned in, gently, slowly, and pressed his lips against Misha's. He held his breath and enjoyed the warmth while it lasted. Misha tasted like rain and candy.


	17. Stay (cochistoch)

"Go," Danneel said, hands in her pockets, squinting into the sun, glasses in her hair. 

"Stay," Misha said, naked and sprawled out in bed, legs wrapped in white sheets, bathed in early morning light. 

"Come in," Vicki said, holding West against her hip, a phone presses between her cheek and shoulder. 

"Just a little longer," Misha said, a half drunk beer in his hand and heart on his sleeve. 

"I'm sorry," Jensen said at 3AM with a long drive home. "I wish I could spend the night." And he means it.


	18. Lazy Sex

Sometimes Misha and Jensen masturbate together. He calls it 'lazy sex.' Misha starts it. Just pulls out his dick on the couch or in bed and says "Watch me." Jensen can feel his balls tighten and his mouth go dry. And even though he means to watch, his hand is already in his pants, rubbing his half-hard cock through his boxers. Sometimes Misha will straddle him, pump his fist and rock his hips while they both jerk off. Misha comes, thick and sticky on Jensen's abs, leaving him to follow behind.


	19. Handsy

Jensen has a tendency to get a little hands when he drinks. Which means Misha tries to get him drunk at every available opportunity. But it isn't until one particularly raucous New Years party that Misha gets Jensen sufficiently playable to get anywhere. By the time Jensen has him cornered inside the pool house guest bath, Misha is half convinced he's hallucinating. It isn't until his ridiculous belt buckle hits the floor that Misha accepts this is really happening. Then there's no stopping it.

(& cont'd)

Jensen is pressed against him, crowding Misha’s already cloudy mind. His hands are riding up under the hem on his shirt, and his lips are trailing wet open-mouthed kisses down Misha’s neck. And the soft grunts Jensen makes as he ruts against his thigh aren’t doing anything to help clear his head.

There is no talking. Misha’s too afraid if he speaks, it will break the spell that midnight on New Years and alcohol have finally created. Instead, he lets Jensen take whatever he wants. He opens to him, his mouth, his hands, his legs, his heart. He is putty in Jensen’s hands. Molded from molten heat and bitter longing, he doesn’t stop to think, he just does.

When Jensen gets his hands under his shirt, grazing the tips of his blunt nails over Misha’s chest, he shivers and ducks his head through the collar before it disappears into the dark behind Jensen. And when Jensen’s hands vanish for a few seconds, Misha is bereft. 

And when Jensen touches him again, it’s with a bare chest, and strong arms that cage Misha in. They kiss and grind and pant in the dark. Jensen, just a hairsbreadth away, the tip of his nose buried in the hair behind Misha’s ear. He inhales deeply, and something aches deep within Misha. 

When Jensen guides Misha’s hand down between them, he does so eagerly. His fingers already itching to touch warm, smooth skin, veined and taunt. He’s surprised when Jensen guides is hand towards his own cock, but it’s no less that what he’s willing to do. 

Misha leans his head back against the wall, his eyes swing shut as a spark of heat ignites in his chest. He fucks his hand, slow and deliberately arching out from the wall so the head of his dick presses into the hot skin of Jensen’s exposed belly, leaving a sticky trail of pre-come along the waste-line of Jensen’s boxers. 

When Jensen moves Misha’s hand away from himself, he has to bite his lip to keep from whimpering. But soon he has his fingers wrapped around an unfamiliar cock, and he can’t control the sound he makes then. Raw and keening. He reaches out with both hands and palms the shorter, wider girth of Jensen with greedy curiosity. 

Jensen grunts and falls forward, bracing himself against the wall, arms on either side of Misha’s head. In the dark, Misha can just make out the lines of his face. His eyes are clamped shut, a grimace of what could easily be pain creases his face - but Misha knows better. He recognizes what the agony of lust looks like. 

And before he can think better of it, he’s dropping to his knees, back sliding down the wall. He needs this. He wants this. He is powerless to stop it.

Above him, Jensen makes a garbled kind of noise, somewhere between a grunt and a cry as Misha closes his lips around him. Jensen’s cock is heavy and salty against Misha’s tongue. He explores the length and breadth of him, taste and texture and sensation. Misha swallows him down, the soft tip pressed into the pallet of his mouth and he still can’t get enough.

"Ngh," Jensen makes a sound like he’s trying to say ‘No’, so Misha stops. But when he does, Jensen groans and his hands find the back of Misha’s head. He holds him in place while his hips jerk, and he fucks up into Misha’s waiting mouth.

He slams into him with brute force and blind desperation. Misha grabs his hips and rides him out, until his rhythm cracks he loses all sense of self. Jensen holds Misha to him tightly, and his fingers digging painfully into the back of his skull are the only warning he gets before there is something warm and viscus spill into his mouth. 

Misha manages to not swallow most of it, but he can still taste Jensen’s musky, salty come fill the crevasses of his mouth. He waits until the small twitches in Jenesn’s cock have subside before he pulls away. His knees crack as he stands and gropes in the dark for the bathroom sink. 

He runs the water before he spits, and swirls out his mouth a few times. The haze of alcohol has all but faded now, and he’s painfully aware of his own still-hard dick pressed against he cold porcelain of the sink. But he’s still afraid to talk, so instead of turning to Jensen and asking for him to ‘lend a hand’, he resigns to finishing the job himself.

With his back turned, he gives himself a few strong pulls. His back is rigid, and his hands are hurried with the business of finding his own release. 

There is a soft, tentative touch to his naked back, and his hand stills. Two large hands find their way over his hips, and around his stomach, into the scraggly hairs of his groin. One hand cups his balls, curling his fingers like he were playing a piano while the other hand grips his cock. The pressure is slight and the movements are filled with an apprehension that makes Misha’s knees go weak. 

He tips his head back, finding the warm slope of Jensen’s shoulder and chest. Jensen works his boxers down, over his hips. He presses his wet, flaccid dick into the curve of Misha’s ass. And Misha, unconsciously, leans forward, giving him better access to the swell of his cheeks. A distinctive tingle shoots down his left leg at the touch. 

He must have made a noise, though he can’t remember doing so. But Jensen presses his chest flush against his back and whispers “Shhhhh.”

Misha nods, his stubble scraping against Jensen’s clean-shaven cheek. Only then does Jensen start to move his hand. His movements are stilted, and his elbow juts out too far, his grip is too soft, and still - Misha is practically panting. He presses his ass back, grinding against Jensen’s crotch because it’s not enough.

After a few minutes, Jensen’s movements start to feel almost painful. His finally has a rhythm down, and his grip is tighter, and his twists his hand just slightly, shifting the pad of his thumb across the vein on the underside of Misha’s cock. But it feels like it’s too much. Too much skin, and heat and stimulation. He can feel his orgasm building, his toes curl against the cool tile, still in the pool of fabric of his jeans. 

He worries that he won’t be able to come, with too much stimulation, and not enough penetration. He didn’t really get a chance to tell Jensen he’s not a fan of hand jobs. 

But then Jensen slows his pace, and edges around Misha’s side. His right hand still pumps, but his left pulls back, traces down the length of Misha’s spine, and into the valley of his ass.

Jensen’s cock is rubbing against his upper thigh while he jerks Misha off, and starts to finger his ass. Just one finger, spreading him, moving up and around until he presses in, slowly, experimentally. And at the sensation of pulling and pushing, filling and fucking, Misha loses it.

He bites his lip and holds the sink with both hands and falls into the great abyss of pleasure he seeks. His eyes pull shut, and he sees flickers of light in the dark as he comes hard and fast into the basin. 

He’s sweating and breathing heavily by the time he comes back to earth, and Jensen is still milking his cock, making sure he’s got every last drop.

Misha looks up at him through hooded eyes and wants to say something. ‘Thank you’ or ‘Finally’, anything but just standing there, his shrinking dick on Jensen’s sink and the taste of Jensen still in his mouth. 

He parts his lips, to say - whatever brilliant thing he hadn’t planned, but there is a crash on the door of the bathroom, and they both jerk apart, and away so quickly, Misha slams the back of his hand into the faucet. 

They are a blur of movements as they pull their pants up, and replace shirts. Misha catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, and even in the dark, he can see his lips are swollen and his hair stands at all angels. 

"Just a sec," Jensen calls, his voice still husky and thick from the silence before. But when he does finally crack the door open, it’s just Oscar that barks and runs back towards the crowded party inside. "Jesus Christ," he breathes, and runs a distracted hand through his hair.

But now the spell is broken, and the sounds of the party drift across the lawn, dropping them into an awkward silence. 

Misha smirks, and does his best not to look upset, but he feels a distinct loss that he can’t quite explain.

They walk back to the party together, the space between them is companionable, but to Misha, it already feels like a chasm.


	20. Creeper

The first time Jensen met 'the new guy', he took an instant dislike to him. Something about him made Jensen uncomfortable. The way he leaned in too close and wouldn't break eye contact. Where the fuck did he train, the Creepy Institute of Creepers?

Jensen IMDB'ed him between takes while Kim 'talked to him'. Nothing big, ER, NCIS, 24... really? Jensen thinks he might actually remember that one. Charmed, Girl Interrupted? Ah, a one-liner. He's been in enough things that Jensen thinks maybe he misjudged him. Obviously, he gets cast. And as far as he can tell from this guy's filmography, there's no nepotism. He hasn't worked with X-Files or any other... wait. What's 'Karla'?

Jensen clicks the link, but before he can read, they call him back to set. He spends the next two hours trying to hit his mark, and maintain eye contact with this unnecessarily intense guy. 

He can hear Kim getting more and more frustrated. And between takes, sometimes Jensen will turn to him and shrug or raise his eyebrow, as if to say 'what's the deal?'

But Kim is a professional, which mean he knows when overtime isn't going to improve the situation. So he lets them go for the night, with the promise that tomorrow they will 'pick back up where they left off'.

Jensen groans, because that means they will pick up with this new guy eye-fucking him into tomorrow. He sits in the makeup chair and Suzie wipes his face with those astringent wet-wipes that leaves his skin dry and peeling. He sneaks a few glances at his phone, but can't really pay attention while someone is literally all up in his face. 

Finally, cleaned and changed back into his own clothes, that suspiciously still feel and look an awful lot like his character's clothes, he heads home. Clif already took Jared earlier today, and Jensen knew he'd be late tonight, so he actually drove himself. It's a rare occasion these days that makes him feel like an elitist Hollywood asshole, but he just doesn't know Vancouver as well as LA. And there are some nights where he doesn't think he can drive. Plus Jared is good company most nights. 

Tonight, though, Jensen is sort of glad he's driving himself. It allows him a few moments to lean against his car and browse his phone. He quickly skims the 'Karla' article, but it isn't until he pulls up the Wikipedia page that he realizes he's seen it before. 

It was on TV one night. It was late, maybe a year ago. He's suffered from anxiety-induced insomnia for years. He'll lay in bed and replay moments of his day over and over again, cringing at how terribly he'd handled something, or what he could have done differently, or imaging what others thought of him when he did something asinine. 

So, most nights he'd end up taking a sleeping pill and sitting on the couch until it took effect, if ever. He watched infomercials, and concerts and bad movies that aired at 3AM. That's when he'd seen it. It was just something to put on while he tried to fall asleep. 

But he ended up staying up for 3 hours to watch the whole thing, commercials and all. It wasn't particularly good, and it was disturbing as fuck. But he remembered the lead guy, there was just something so... off about him. By the end, Jensen was convinced he'd just seen a serial-killer in the making. Clearly, the actor identified with his character a little too well.

It wasn't until he saw the pictures on Wikipedia that he put it together. The new guy was the serial-killer creeper. 

"Night," someone called to Jensen and he jumped. He suddenly felt too exposed, standing in the dark outside his car. He quickly waved to the prop guy and got in his car. His heart felt like it was in his throat until he locked the doors and put the car in drive. 

When he gets home, he feels anxious and fidgety. He skips dinner and takes a box of Saltines over to the couch. Jensen can tell, it's going to be another sleepless night. He can already feel the swirling of guilt and shame and regret in his gut. 

He imagines all the ways he could have done better tonight. He could have been more professional about the new guy. The little shoulder shrugs plague him until 1AM. He should have turned half a second sooner on the third take, or tried to keep eye-contact on his coverage rather than constantly looking down at the new guy's chapped lips. But seriously, what the fuck? Did they run out of chap-stick or something? It was distracting. 

But he shouldn't have gotten distracted so easily. Even under the close scrutiny of such unnerving eyes. He knew they were light, maybe hazel or blue. But in the night shoot he couldn't really tell, they just looked black with the harsh back lighting. He'd met him before today of course, shook his hand, introduced himself. But he wasn't really paying attention to his eye color at the time. He was too busy trying to figure out if 'Misha' was a Russian name.

Jensen skimmed over his Wikipedia page a few more times, but it was pretty sparse. The 'Add more details here' link kept mocking him like a banner of disinformation running across the top of the article. It didn't have an personal information about his past, but judging from a few of the films and characters, it was possible he was Russian. 

By 2:30, Jensen gave up on waiting for the sleeping pill. It was going to be a long night. He switched from Seinfeld reruns on Netflix. He had a few things he could watch, 'How It's Made' and 'Dirty Jobs' among them. He always enjoyed the quiet dignity that watching educational or at least semi-education TV afforded him. It was usually better than stumbling into a situation where he spent the rest of the night analyzing why another fellow actor seemed to be so much better than he was.

He realized he'd navigated to 'search' before he even registered what he was doing. The letters 'M-I-S-H' already typed in the search field. Maybe the sleeping pill had kicked in, he was just too troubled to let it work. He finished typing the rest of his name, he checked his phone to be sure he'd spelled it correctly.

There was only one result. The white cover with a familiar woman's face and the word 'Karla' written in grungy blood-red. The intro started rolling before Jensen knew he'd pressed play. And immediately, the image of Misha's face was thrust onscreen. It was a facsimile of old home video footage. Him and a blond woman were smiling and laughing.

Already Jensen could feel the first tendril of discord snake up his rib-cage. There was just something so off about his smile. It just looked wrong. He shivered, and reached for the throw that was always draped over the back of the couch. 

He dozed in and out during the movie, only really waking up around the end when the guy really went over the deep end. When he started raping his girlfriend from behind, Jensen had had enough. He hit the 'Master Power' button on his remote, and switched off the TV and Roku at once. 

He was more convinced that ever that this new guy was mentally unbalanced. He knew it was irrational, he himself had played plenty of roles that were miles from his actual temperament. But he just couldn't shake the unease at the memory of this serial-killer leaning in closely and whispering to him during takes. 

He scrubbed his hands over his face and decided to at least lay in bed for a while, to see if he could get any more sleep.

The next morning, he was exhausted and still on edge when Jared cornered him in the food prep area. Jensen ate a bowl of oatmeal and tried his best not to yawn.

"So, how's the new guy?" Jared asked, far too energetic for as early as it was.

"I don't know," Jensen said, shrugging and taking his bowl of half-eaten oatmeal as they walked to wardrobe. "He's kind of weird, I guess."

No sooner had he said it than Jensen turned to his right to see said man in question, already in costume, staring intensely at him as they walked past. Jensen felt his face fall, and the heat leave his hands. He dropped his bowl in the nearest garbage, suddenly too anxious to eat.

"Weird how?" Jared pressed once they were far enough away not to be overheard.

"I don't know. He's just kind of... intense?" Jensen shrugged and pulled the updated pages from his back pocket. He only had three more episodes with this guy, and then they were going to kill him off. 

He started counting the days.


	21. Wonder

Jensen likes to watch. When Misha sucks him off, he sneaks these furtive glances from under his lashes, and every time he looks, Jensen is watching. His mouth hangs open, and he has this pained expression that makes Misha ache. And when their eyes meet in those stolen moments, Misha sees wonder in Jensen's eyes.


	22. The Chase

"Suck it." Jensen not so much pleads as orders. His cock in hand, already hard, he rubs it against Misha face. Around his nose, dragging over his lips, smearing precome and saliva across his cheek. He presses it against Misha's eye, forcing it closed. "Come on, Mish." Jensen does beg now, when Misha refuses to open his mouth. But he doesn't mind, not really. The chase is half the fun.


	23. Bashful

Misha fucks Jensen slowly. He takes his time. They are in no hurry tonight. He makes sure to touch and lick every inch of him. Misha whispers sweetly in his ear that he's perfect and beautiful. And Jensen blushes, a rosy pink that creeps from his face to his chest. He thinks it's endearing, that even like this, spread wide and balls swaying, he can be so bashful. Tonight, Misha makes love.


	24. Omelets

Misha likes to make Jensen breakfast when he stays over. Jensen's kitchen is so much nicer than his, but it hardly ever gets used. And Misha seems to have formed some kind of emotional attachment to the unused room. So he cooks. Mostly for Jen who likes omelets after sex. Some for himself because that look Jensen gives him when he brings him a delicious meal, that look that says he is loved, is addicting. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't do it a little for the kitchen.


	25. Parking Lot

Jensen fucks Misha in a parking lot. Hidden in a dark corner, the streetlight shot out, between an old BMW and Misha's Audi. It's quick and messy and Misha is too impatient to wait for Jensen, so he strokes himself. He comes first, a thick pulse of semen drips down his jeans and the stranger's car. Jensen follows shortly after, muttering 'fuck fuck fuck' in time with his thrusts. Until he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, his fingers denting the skin of Misha's flank as he comes.


	26. Beautiful (cockistoch)

Jensen watches Vicki go down on Danneel. Her hair splayed out across the bed, it sticks to her neck as Danneel writhes and cries out, her fingers tangled in Vicki's hair. Vicki rests on her elbows, bent at the waist, ass in the air, as Misha fucks her from behind. Their chorus of moans compel Jensen up and onto the bed, to join them. Misha's head is thrown back, lips parted when Jensen pushes into him. "Yes," Misha seethes. "You're fucking beautiful," Jensen tells them all.


	27. Home from the doctor's (cockistoch)

Vicki and Danneel come home to find Misha and Jensen asleep on the oversized couch. Misha's arm is thrown over Jensen's chest and West is tangled between them, his little hand twisted in Jensen's shirt and face pressed against Misha's neck. Vicki reaches for Danneel's hand, her belly swollen. Danneel has tears in her eyes as she touches the not-yet-existent swell of her stomach. They've just come from the doctors, and Danneel can't wait to tell Jensen the news. But she can't bear to wake him yet


	28. Panic

Misha is so in love with Jensen sometimes he has to sit down and take a deep breath. His chest aches and his lungs hurt and he feels like he might be having a panic attack.


	29. PCA 2014 (cockistoch)

Vicki made them all dinner and kissed Danneel’s neck like she does sometimes when she’s not trying to start anything, when she’s just trying to express affection. Misha tells Dani she’s beautiful and kisses her lightly, only slightly smudging her lipstick. Misha and Vicki are staying over and watching the kids. And Jensen thinks the sight of Misha with his wife’s lipstick on his lips and cheek while Vicki stands next to him with JJ on her hip when they wave goodbye from their front door is the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever seen. His amazing family.


	30. Just Deserts

Jensen and Misha wrestling. Misha pinning Jensen to the floor. Misha holding Jensen’s arms over his head. Misha nuzzling into Jensen’s neck before he gives him a light bite. Nipping, licking, fucking. Hips rocking and Misha holding Jensen down and Jensen starting off laughing. He get’s all breathless because he’s laughing so hard. But then he sees the look Misha is giving him, half angry half aroused and the laughing dies in Jensen’s throat as he feels Misha’s erection against his thigh. Misha’s voice is rough and strained as he leans in and whispers “You’re going to pay” so gently it makes Jensen choke back a sob.


	31. Apiecalypse

Jensen can tell that Misha is still pissed. They’re at dinner, Misha’s hair is still wet from the second shower he had to take. Misha ordered a salad and eats in silence and Jensen’s beginning to regret it. Maybe two pies in one day was too much. Maybe the cameras were too much. He eats his meal in uncomfortable silence and tries not to over think it. It was funny. It was just a prank. Jared did it too. Why should Misha be mad at him?

"Jen?"

"Yeah!" Jensen answers quickly, lifting his eyes from his plate.

"I was serious, you know." Misha says to his lettuce. 

"Serious?"

"About sleeping with one eye open." And the look Misha gives him is terrifying. It’s that same feral, wild-eyed look that he used in that serial killer movie. And fuck, Jensen has never been so legitimately frightened of him before. It reminds him of the day the met, and that commanding, authoritarian voice he used to Cas, and those months he spent trying to reconcile the man with the character.

"Come on, man. We were just fucking around." Jensen says, and chuckles. But he knows it sounds more like a nervous laugh.

"Just remember that later." Misha says and the threat of looming payback is terrifying.

"Mish—"

"Just you wait." Misha cuts him off and Jensen’s blood runs cold. He’s lost his appetite.


	32. Freakout

The first time Jensen kisses Misha, he's surprised how easy it is. He spends the next week and a half freaking out because he's NOT freaking out. It was right, it was easy in a way so few things are. In fact, there's only ever been one other person Jensen knew of who loving came so naturally. And he'd already married her. When Jensen confesses this, Misha cries. His face goes slack, the way it does when he is so utterly genuine he seems to be made of nothing else. And Jensen kisses him again.


	33. Misha's skill set

If there is one thing Misha knows he can do well, it's give head. He's had plenty of experience, and his thick lips and nonexistent gag reflex make him a fucking champ. He knows just the right amount of pressure and suction, lips and tongue, hands and teeth. He could have gone pro. He's that good. But when he's giving Jensen head, he manages to lose all his instinct. All of a sudden he's in the 10th grade and giving his first bj, more concerned with jacking himself off than anything else.


	34. Mornings (cockistoch)

Jensen is not a morning person. Even before JJ and 17 hour shooting days, Jensen was a late riser. Dani always joked that it was 'her time' when he slept in. Now that their bed has company, Jensen finds he has an unlikely ally in his anti-morning ritual. Vicki is almost as vehement about avoiding pre-dawn activities as he is. So while Dani and Misha make green smoothies and go jogging, Jensen gets to wake up with Vicki draped over him like a human blanket. They don't know what they're missing.


End file.
